Run
by Thedarkshadow1998
Summary: The boy who lived is missing. Presumed captured or dead by most, only one person never really gave up hope. So when a chance encounter reconnects two lost souls, each are given fresh hope and a chance to take an alternative path, but 3 questions still remain. Where has Harry been for the past 3 years? What happened to him? How can you begin to reverse damage beyond repair?
1. Prologue

**3 years prior**

" _Freak! You're nothing but a little freak! What have I told you about showing off your abnormality?"_

Heavy drops of rain smashed relentlessly against the pavements pooling in the cracks.

" _You'll pay for this boy! I swore if you ever hurt my son I'd kill you!"_

A thick blanket of darkness lay over the suburban street casting long shadows over the ground ahead.

" _I'm going to teach that freak a lesson that he'll never forget. HE'LL BLOODY PAY FOR THIS!"_

Beads of sweat trickled down his face mingling with tears. His back was aching, his every muscle burned in protest but still, he ran.

" _Go on then Harry - fight back. Defend yourself like a man."_

Despite the raging pain in his chest, he urged himself on. He had to get away. He had to leave this place.

" _You can't can you? Think you're the big man with all your nonsense, but you're nothing but a little freak!"_

Blinding yellow headlights sped towards him. The shrill shriek of breaks sliced through the roar of the rain as the car swerved to avoid him. A blare of the horn startled Harry back to the present time.

With his heart hammering wildly, he stopped abruptly and turned, watching the black car speed down the road he'd just ran across. It's bright rear lights flashing angrily in its wake.

" _Get out of my house. Get out boy. I said get out!"_

Ignoring the sharp stabbing in his head, he forced himself on once more. He wasn't going back there. This was his chance. He had to escape.

" _Now!"_

He didn't stop again until his lungs gave out and he collapsed in a heap at the side of the road. It was only then that the memories immersed him and he let the tears fall freely. He dragged in shuddering breaths through the sobs that wracked through his body.

Soaked to the bone now, he was distantly aware that he had to find shelter from the brewing storm. But he couldn't bring himself to lift his heavy limbs and move. He clutched his hand me down jacket closer, brought his knobbly knees to his chest and curled tighter into his ball. As though he was still protecting his aching body from the viscous blows.

If there was one thing that he was certain of it was that he would never go back. In spite of the frost biting at his numb fingers, in spite of the blood seeping through his threadbare t-shirt. In spite of the rough ground digging into his skin from beneath him. He was more at home here than at 4, Privet Drive. No, he'd never go back.

At precisely the same time that night, somewhere many, many miles away, buried deep in enchanted chambers and locked drawers, a worn piece of parchment eased itself. Leaving a few blank spaces in between it's many lines. The ink having disappeared without a trace.


	2. Newspapers in Coffee Shops

**Vicious Attack On Innocent Muggles!**

 _Yesterday at 3:30pm in Hackney, East London, two muggle men were discovered in an alleyway having been stunned and brutally attacked. Of course muggle enforcement were not able to identify the cause of the victims condition, the weapon used to inflict the injuries or more importantly their attacker._

 _Eyewitnesses revealed several cloaked figures fleeing the alleyway shortly before the bodies were found. This seemingly unprovoked attack on two middle aged muggle citizens certainly implies the work of the dark wizards. The ministry of magic is regarding the matter as a severe breach of wizarding law and are urging anyone with information to come forward._

 _The twist in this tale? The magic used is said to have been completed without magical signature._

 _Many are left wondering who these dark wizards are that are at large? Are they capable of performing advanced wandless magic? After all, every wave leaves a trace. Why did they strike in broad daylight on a busy muggle street? Why subject two seemingly innocent muggles to such violence? Will our ministry find them before they strike again? Could this even be the work of the remaining death eaters?_

 _Please turn to page 3 for the full report._

Remus Lupin frowned deeply as he folded the latest issue of The Daily Prophet in half. Running a hand through his silver streaked hair, he tapped his pockets searching for his watch. Common sense told him that the muggle book shop owner wasn't going to attend their scheduled meeting, but still he continued to wait.

It was nearing 6:00 pm now and his unsavoury coffee had long since turned cold.

He toyed with the nearby tatty menu and the nearby waiter shot him another aggravated glare before returning to clean the glasses. Ignoring the man's stare, he let out an exasperated sigh and cradled his chipped mug.

He'd already been at the dingy coffee house for a couple of hours, yet it felt like no time at all had passed. Turning his attention back to the newspaper article, he lost himself in thought once more.

Old London was Remus's location. But it was not for the reasons that most wizards were there today. No, Remus Lupin had a job interview. A supposed job interview. He'd been offered an appointment with the local book shop keeper about a vacancy within the store. He'd arrived almost half an hour later at the designated place in the hopes of making a good first impression but thus far, the owner had failed to make an appearance.

The bell above the entrance rang its crisp note as the door swung open. Remus looked up hopefully, only to be disappointed by the arrival of several elderly women all clasping handbags and chattering loudly with one another.

Again, Remus sighed dejectedly and returned to stirring his drink. It had been a rough few months for the wizard. Work was getting harder to come by, and even harder to keep. The magical community was almost dry on the ground when it came to odd jobs, particularly for nearly middle aged werewolfs. Remus had turned to the muggle world, but found even in bustling London his luck wasn't faring much better. His hand to mouth existence was becoming more of a challenge with each passing day. He had his small cottage in Yorkshire of course. The home his parents had left him before they passed served as a great comfort during these difficult times. It was a peaceful place, secluded and private. A stark contrast to the never ending sea of traffic that seemed to hurtle through the city.

Turning his thoughts away from his beloved home, he stared at the peeling paint and tuned into the conversation taking place on the opposite table.

" _Terrible, absolutely terrible if you ask me. I mean where on earth are their parents?"_

He heard one grey haired lady say.

" _You may ask Winnie, you may ask, they are always hanging about there. As though they have nothing better to do with their time. Honestly, most of them look as though they should still be at school!"_ Another replied.

" _Harassing passers by like they do - I tell you, I watch my purse whenever I cross the street."_

" _And the girls, my word, their skirts are high enough to show off their knickers, we would never have gotten away with it back in my day! Is it any wonder why most of them have gotten themselves pregnant?"_

Losing interest in mindless gossip, Remus took one final glance at his pocket watch and rose from the bench. He dropped the last of his muggle change onto the counter and exited the cafe back onto the street. Most stores were closing now, if they weren't already shut by now, but he figured he could call into a few of the nearby newsagents to see if they needed a spare hand along his way. At least then the day wouldn't have been entirely wasted.

As he wandered down the busy street, his thoughts drifted to the offer he'd received only a few weeks prior. It was hard to believe he had been offered his dream job by an employer that he happened to regardais a close friend. Yet here he was, trailing to run down newsagents doing everything but begging for paid work.

But the extended offer of teaching defence against the dark arts at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry didn't come as a no brainer to the ageing werewolf. His reluctance to accept the role stemmed primarily from a deep rooted fear. A fear he'd carried his entire life, that someday, somehow he'd be found out. If he were to be completely honest with himself, it wasn't just his secret that kept him away from the school. He was all too aware that if he were to become a professor he would be inviting in too many long suppressed memories of his adolescence. Joy filled as they were, reminiscing was painful for Remus. With his old classmates and best friends dead and another a deranged killer, the fond memories were somehow tinged with grief and regret. It would be a challenge in itself to return to a place that once held so much happiness, and now only stood to serve as a painful reminder of the bitter truth.

And there was Harry. Or better put, the lack of Harry.

James and Lily's baby boy would be nearing his 13th birthday now and looking forward to his third year at the school. Or so he should be.

Harry Potter had been missing for almost 3 years to the date. Or at least that's what he'd been told was the date. He strongly suspected that the child had been missing long before the wizarding world found out about his disappearance. Of course his guardians had sworn that he'd only left a few days before his letter cam. They denied having any involvement with Harry's disappearance. They had even been trailed and interviewed at length, but still maintained that they knew nothing. It was more than just a gut feeling for Remus that Harry Potter's disappearance took place long before anyone noticed. The neighbours confessed that they hadn't seen the kid in weeks when questioned. The circumstances, the story that the Dursley family told was all just too suspicious for Remus's liking. But perhaps he only thought that way because it was easier to bare than the alternatives. Many folk believed that his best friend's son had been kidnapped by Lord Voldemort's remaining death eaters. Taken from his safe haven of home and at the mercy of the darkest wizards of the age. But whatever the truth maybe, the tale of the boy who lived was a sad one. The wizarding worlds saviour had vanished into thin air, never to be seen or heard from again. Three years down the line, the ministry and the remaining members of the order had stopped their search. Each coming to the same resigned realisation that the chances of finding the child alive and well was slim to say the least. Even Remus had to admit although it made him sick, his faith was wavering.

Downtrodden with guilt ridden thoughts, Remus decided to call it a day as turned into what he thought looked like a fairly secluded street. Resisting the urge to stop at a nearby pub, he bowed his head and walked on, trying to find a suitable spot to disapparate without being seen.

He made it halfway through the darkened alleyway when something caught his attention. Spinning around, he drew his wand out discreetly. With his senses on high alert, he steadily approached the industrial sized metal bin. He was sure he felt something brush against his backside momentarily. But I'm close inspection of the narrow pathway, he found it was deserted.

Shaking his head slightly, he lowered his wand and turned around. It had been a long day, he was probably just exhausted from his latest transformation. Not to mention stressed about the latest article he had read earlier.

He was on the very verge of disapparating when he heard it. The sound of running footsteps. Pivoting on his heel, he marched determinedly towards it. He reached the bin in time to see a shadow disappear around the corner of the wall.

Picking up his pace now, he made his way back onto the street.

"Hey! Stop!" He yelled aimlessly at the shadows.

If his eyes hadn't been trained on the crowd of rowdy men outside the pub then he would've missed it. A small, dark haired boy, looking no older than 8 or 9 twisted his head back to stare Remus dead in the eye. In the next instance, he slipped into the crowd and disappeared from sight.

"Hey! You there - STOP!" Remus called again.

But the figure didn't stop, he emerged from the group of people and sped on into the night. Remus paused for a moment bewildered by the turn of events before regaining his senses and checking his back pockets.

Cursing his own stupidity, he traced the boys movements with his eyes and raced after him, diving into the drunken crowd and knocking a few innocent bystanders out of his path in his hurry.

The wallet he was carrying didn't contain much money, but it did have sentimental photographs and other belongings that Remus couldn't stand to lose. The thought spurred his weakened legs onwards through the chase.

Somewhere up ahead, he watched the kid cut a corner. He was quick, but not quick enough to match Remus's unnatural speed. Forgetting about magic, the wizard hurtled after the thief, desperate to catch up with him before he lost sight of him completely.

It was by pure chance that the boy stumbled slightly in shock when Remus shouted. Seizing the opportunity momentary hesitance had given him, Remus pounced on the boy's back. Knocking him forwards, he reached out and grabbed the small hooded figure before he hit the ground.

The thief struggled underneath his grasp and let out a stream obscenities in undignified rage.

" _Where is it?"_ Remus demanded fighting to keep a hold of the boy whilst trying to spin him around.

" _Dunno wha' you're on abou' ya weirdo! Get off me!"_ The boy yelled back in a strong cockney accent.

" _I'm not going to hurt you, I just want my wallet!"_ Remus told him, fighting to twist his arms into a restraint. The kid was putting up one hell of a fight alright.

" _I told ya I don' bloody 'ave it!"_

" _Yes you do!"_ Remus insisted. " _Just give it to me and I'll let you go ok? You can have all the money in it alright - but there's pictures. Pictures I need back!"_

" _Oh righ' so I giv' you those n wha'? You jus' lemme go yea?"_ The boy asked disbelievingly.

" _Yes! Yes alright. I won't hurt you - I won't even come after you. Just give me the pictures and we go our separate ways."_ Remus pleaded, desperation evident in his voice now as he continued to wrestle with the struggling boy.

" _Tell ya wha' mate. I'll giv' ya summin', summin much betta than pictures yea."_

" _What do you mean? Look just give the pictures to me and nobody gets hurt -"_

" _DANNY!"_

Both Remus and the young thief stopped abruptly upon hearing a new voice call down the pathway.

" _DANNY!"_

It called again. Noticing the boy had gone rigid in his arms, he loosened his vice grip.

" _Danny you down there or wha? Don' tell me you're at it again but not wivou' the boss man givin the ok! 'e's still fumin' afta wha' you wen' an' pulled yesterday!"_ The voice called.

Realising the voice belonged to a teenage boy, who was apparently talking to the kid Remus had his arms around, he turned to look over his shoulder. Some feet away he could see the owner was standing nearby the lamppost. Though his face was hidden from view, he could make out a tall, lanky figure dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie.

" _You gonna lemme go yea - if I giv' you your wallet?"_

The small boys voice drew Remus's attention, he noted the almost pleading edge to his tone.

" _Danny lets go! They're all waitin' for us back at the Vic's Arms!"_ The figure shouted at them.

Remus loosened his hold again in an attempt to show the boy that he meant no harm.

" _All I want is my pictures!"_ He repeated in a quiet voice.

The thief shifted in Remus's arms to break free and dug his hand deep into his tracksuit bottoms.

"' _ere!" He said, thrusting his wallet at the man. "Pictures mus' mean a lo' to you."_ He added with a slightly bitter edge.

" _Thank you."_ Remus said taking a step back as he took his wallet.

" _Whateva man."_ The boy replied.

He turned sharply and tugged down his hood, revealing his face. Remus was instantly floored by what he saw.

A fair complexion visible beneath a mop of unruly jet black hair. High cheekbones. A strong jawline and a lightning bolt scar peeking through an overgrown fringe. But the most startling feature of all. The thing that knocked the wind right out of Remus was the boy's large jaded green orbs. He would recognise those eyes anywhere. For they had been ingrained in his memory for 12 long years. There was no doubt in his mind who this pickpocket was.

Harry Potter.


	3. The Meeting

"Harry?" Remus whispered in disbelief.

Harry's eyes widened in shock upon hearing this man call him by his proper name. The name no one had used in years. But shock quickly morphed into fear as the strange man reached out a hand. He flinched, drawing away from the touch.

"My name's not 'arry mate." He said in a deadpan voice.

"DANNY! C'MON!" The teen urged angrily as he charged towards them.

Harry's eyes flickered over to him and he made to move away. Remus's breath hitched. He had to do something. Quickly.

"Harry listen to me, I know who you are, I know you've been missing for a long time now."

"Missin'? Listen 'ere mate I dunno who you fink I am bu' my name ain't Harry! I ain't who the hell you fink I am!"

"Who's this geezer?" The pair turned to find a much older regarding the pair with intense interest. Remus looked back at Harry to see a series of emotions flash across his face before he caught his eye and settled on angry.

"Jus' some whack job Seb, c'mon let's go." He muttered shoving past the men and leading the way out of the alley.

Seb gave Remus one long hard look before following his friend.

Remus watched the boys, his mind reeling out of control. "Harry wait!" Remus pleaded. "Just wait a moment, please!"

"'Ow many bloody times? My name ain't 'arry!" The street kid shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I'd quit now if I were you mate, leave 'im the hell alone if you know wha's good for you." Seb threatened.

Remus started towards them. "No, not until he hears me out-"

"Get the hell away from me wacko!" Harry shrieked.

Remus stopped dead in his tracks. He wasn't at all sure what he was doing but this was heading in the wrong direction, fast. "Harry-"

Seb wheeled around, a murderous expression on his face. "You deaf or summin' mate? Kid's name ain't fuckin' 'arry! Now ge', before the boss finds you 'ere!" He shoved Remus hard in the chest.

Remus stumbled backwards. His eyes frantically sorting out and latching onto Harry's. Hoping desperately to send some sort of message to him that he might understand. "I don't mean any harm." He tried again.

Both boys glared daggers at him. "No, but that's exactly wha' you're gonna ge' if you don' get the hell out of 'ere righ' now." Seb warned.

"G'won wacko - be on your way." Harry said coldly, emerald eyes boring into topaz blue.

"Har-"

Sebs fist came out of nowhere. The crashing pain in his nose as the blow landed was enough to make his eyes stream. He stumbled back again and lost his balance. Falling hard into the pile of black rubbish bags, he lifted a hand to touch his bloody nose.

The teen bent at the waist and leaned in towards him. With his face only inches from Remus's he spat one single word. "Get." Then, before he knew what was happening, they were gone.

….

The inky black sky was splashed with twinkling white droplets. The song of nocturnal creatures and the gentle lapping of water as it washed against the bank where the only sounds disturbing the otherwise silent night. A magnificent castle loomed overhead. The silvery light emitting from its windows rippled over the surrounding mote.

Dry grass and twigs crunched and snapped under his feet as Remus ran, so intent on reaching the entrance he barely registered the metallic taste of blood circling his mouth. Stubbornly ignoring the dull throbbing in his nose, he sped on through the night. Memories of startling green eyes playing through his mind on a loop. Smashing his shoulder painfully into the solid oak doors, he wasted no time in charging up the stone spiral staircase. He had to get to Dumbledore. He had to tell him. He had to know that Harry was alive. He had to know that he'd found him.

It was only on approaching the golden gargoyle that he realised he had no idea what the password was. Kicking the wall in pent up frustration, he let out a strangled roar. Inconvenience didn't even begin to cover it. The fact that the wizarding worlds saviour had already been missing for 3 years didn't matter. Right now they were losing time. His earlier lapse in judgement only served as motivation. He'd let Harry get away and for that he was overcome with guilt. But he'd be damned if he let anything stand in the way of bringing the boy home where he belonged now.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He bellowed at the griffin. "PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!"

But the statue did not move. Instead a slick, oily voice that he hadn't heard in decades replied to his call. But it was not the voice he wanted to hear.

"Remus John Lupin. So we meet again."

Remus turned bodily to face his old arch enemy. "Severus. I need to speak with the headmaster." He began breathlessly.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow as he glided towards him. "Really, and what might a useless old mongrel like you want to speak with the headmaster about might I ask?"

"Do you know where he is? It's important please!" Remus insisted, doubling over now in an attempt to catch his breath, he held onto the wall for support.

"What happened to your face?" He asked with a hint of curiosity.

"Not now Severus please - just tell me where Dumbledore is. You know don't you?"

"Perhaps." Snape wrapped his arms over his chest and leered at the man before him. "But why is the current whereabouts of the headmaster at this hour of such great interest to you Lupin?"

Remus eyed the man before him carefully before making his decision. He'd learnt long ago that his late school rival was not one for giving up without a price. "It's about Harry, Harry Potter. Now will you please tell me -"

"The Potter boy? Do you mean to say you have heard something of his location? Another supposed sighting maybe? Lupin I think we both know that is impossible, the boy is dead-"

"He is not dead! Harry is alive! Very much alive - I saw him with my own eyes!"

"Really." Snape sneered impassively.

"I spoke to him! You have to believe me - this is important! If he disappears again now I'll -"

"You'll what?" Snape sucked his front teeth and a small grin appeared on his face. "So you just happened to bump into the boy who lived today?"

But Remus was fast losing his patience now. How could this man be so calm and collected when he'd delivered such groundbreaking news? The boy the entire wizarding world had been searching for, for years had been found!

"Do you know where the headmaster is or not Severus?" He asked through gritted teeth.

Snape stood still for a moment contemplating his options carefully. "Where?" He asked at last.

"What? I just asked you where -"

"Where is the boy? Where did you see him?"

Remus shook his head adamantly. "I won't tell you that."

"Why go to the headmaster? Why not inform ministry?" Snape persisted.

"You know as well as I do Severus what the ministry might do to the boy if they are the ones to find him. They'll interrogate him. They'll try to make him a ward of the ministry. Fudge will take credit for having found him to gain popularity so as to get him through the next election. His story will be splashed all over the prophet. Merlin knows what they'll make the boy out to be! I don't trust what they'll do with him." Remus hesitated. "Severus where the boy is - he might, he is - he's in danger. Real danger, the right people have to find him!"

The potions master frowned thoughtfully as he absorbed the werewolfs words. "The headmaster is away on business, private business." He added. "I can get word to him of the boy's so called sighting. He will take the appropriate actions I'm sure, especially if the boy is in as you call it - real danger."

Remus drew himself to full height and stared searchingly at the schools professor. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Professor Albus Dumbledore is of significant importance to not only this school, but to the entire wizarding community. He has immense power as a wizard. Not to mention the influence he possesses over our ministry. He has entrusted me with his current location under strict instruction not to repeat the information to another living soul. Do you think I would make such a breach of confidence on account of a werewolf's tale? I have been more than generous in my extended offer to pass on your story to this man. If what you say is true, will you take such a risk with the boy's life? All for the sake of displaced trust and pride Lupin?" Snape sneered with a stony expression.

It was Remus's turn to weigh out his options now. If the greatest wizard of the age placed his trust in his old rival, he would trust in his judgement. After all, the alternative was not one of favour. "Muggle Hackney, London. We met in Torments Fall."

His information was only met with a curt nod. Snape turned on his heel and strode away.

"Wait!" Remus called after the man. "He mentioned something, a brewery I think - The Vic's Arms. He might be there. Severus the right people have to find him, you understand that."

Snape slowed and cocked his head to the side. "I understand perfectly." With that, he swept from the hallway leaving Remus Lupin alone once more.

…..

"You really believe that we're going to find this kid at 12:00 in the afternoon, in the middle of East bloody London Kingsley? We and countless other fully qualified aurors and wizards alike have been scowling these streets for the past 3 days. You really think if the boy who lived were here, he would've gone unnoticed by all of us? We have a much better chance of capturing the bloody dark wizards responsible for the attack on those muggles than -"

"Have you considered the possibility that the dark wizards that attacked those muggles are in this area because of Harry Potter? They might know the child is here - do you not think it is all a little too coincidental McClouchan?" Kingsley asked his partner in exasperation.

The balding auror grunted sourly. "So where too now? Another visit to a local dugout I suppose?"

"The Hogwarts professor said the boy may be found in The Vic's Arms -"

McClouchan stopped, rolled his eyes and threw his arms up in frustration. "Do you have any idea just how many pubs in London are called Victoria bloody Arms? We've been to at least 5 already Kingsley! No ones seen the kid. Never even heard of a Harry Potter. Look even if these criminals have been tipped off and told that the boy is in Hackney - it doesn't mean to say it's true!"

Kingsley smiled politely at a slightly alarmed young mother pushing a pushchair past them, before turning to face his colleague. "But what if it is - is it not worth trying? Come, according to the map, there's another Vic Arms this way."

Sighing heavily McClouchan started in the direction his superior had ordered thinking of all the unfinished work he had sitting back at his office desk in the Ministry.

It was true wizards, witches and muggle enforcement officers alike had been prowling the streets of Hackney since the finding of the victims a few days prior. However, identifying potentially suspicious individuals on the poverty ridden streets of Torment Falls was no easy feat. Gangs of hooded youths seemed to linger on every street corner smoking things that didn't smell like cigarettes as they jeered at passers by. Bits of cardboard and brightly coloured knitted blankets lay dotted around any place with shelter, while their owners lay sprawled across the pavements. Old stores were mostly boarded up, newspaper covering their windows with written warnings not to trespass. Pieces of green broken glass scattered across the roads, marking the spot of drunken brawls. In the gutters lay needles hidden along with small plastic bags. In the close distance, a council estate. The tower block proudly displaying its graffiti. This was not an area where fairytale endings were likely to take place. Just being in this grim looking place filled Kingsley with a deep sadness that made him almost hope that the 12 year old boy they were looking for, really wasn't here.

"This it then?" McClouchan asked in a bored kind of tone, gesturing towards a nearby shabby, red bricked building.

The head auror leant forwards to inspect the battered chalk board standing right outside. "This is it." He confirmed. "Do you still have the photograph?"

"Yes, for all the use it's doing us, the kid looks about 6 in it - he has to look different now, what is he about 10-11 now?"

"12. The boy is 12, almost 13." Kingsley mumbled more to himself than his aggravating coworker. He strode on ahead with a fresh determination, ready to begin his interrogation on another unsuspecting barman.

The local brewery was thick with the unmistakable odour of alcohol and stale cigar smoke. Despite the mid day hour, a fair number of punters were already nursing frothy pints and chatting away animatedly. The burgundy wallpaper held a slick shine as though it hadn't been cleaned in years, reflecting the dull glow from the hanging brass light fixtures.

Heads turned to observe the new arrivals as the pair made their way across the room. McClouchan studied the worn, sticky red carpet in undeniable disgust as he followed his superior to the counter. Hoping for all the world that this wouldn't take long.

"Hello, I'm wondering if you can help us. We're looking for this young lad, wondering if you've seen him at all?" Kingsley asked the haggard looking barman as he forced his way through the string of customers. More heads turned to watch the pair as Kingsley waved his battered muggle photograph under the workers nose. The greasy haired barman however barely glanced up. Seemingly absorbed in his task of loading pint glass after pint glass. Steadily levelling each with the utmost care.

The aurors waited patiently for a response as the older man passed each drink to his expectant customers. A great sense of unease seeped in as all around them the buzz of raised voices dissented into hushed tones. McClouchan gripped his concealed wand and began tapping it against his leg impatiently as Kingsley placed his charmed identification card onto the bar.

"We're with East London police. I suggest you do us the courtesy of answering our question." He tried again in a low voice.

The barman finally turned his attention to study the objects placed before him through narrowed eyes. "Nope, sorry gentlemen - I can't say I have." He answered after scrutinising the picture and badge.

The atmosphere was quickly tightening and McClouchan was all but prepared to leave but his colleague slapped a hand on his arm, seemingly knowing what he was thinking.

"The child appears much younger in the picture, here, look again. Think have you ever seen him? Have any of your staff?" Kingsley thrust the photograph over the grainy bar once more.

"A lot of people come and go in 'ere mate. How am I supposed to remember each one?" The man grunted.

"That may be, but surely you'd remember a child, he's only 12. We have reason to believe he comes in here a lot."

"It's a family pub." The disgruntled man shrugged passing the picture back again and turning away to serve the next customer.

McClouchan glanced around. This didn't look like the place for a family outing - it didn't even look like the sort of place anyone would willingly eat in.

Kingsley seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he leaned down and placed his elbows firmly on the service counter. It was clear he wasn't convinced. "Is there somewhere private we could talk? A back room perhaps?"

The barman looked up in mild surprise. "Got a lot of punters 'ere mate, can't expect me to just up and go!" He declared.

Kingsley looked as though he was about to argue when a new voice sounded over the murmuring crowd. "The police officer asked for a moment of your time. I don't think that's too much to ask do you?"

All necks snapped round.

"Remus." Kingsley grimaced.

"Who's this geezer puttin' his two cobblers in now?" The barman frowned, gesturing angrily with his rag in Remus's direction.

"He's a colleague." The eldest wizard improvised shooting the werewolf a firm look, Remus however placed his own elbows down the bar casually and ignored them.

"That's right, now the kid's name is Danny, we know he was here last night, might have come in with another boy, Seb. Don't worry he's not in trouble we just need to speak to him. So where is he?"

The trio had attracted an audience now. The low murmuring had all but died and every customer seemed to be regarding the imposters with ill disguised interest.

"Oh Danny boy in trouble now ain't ya!" À young boy suddenly shouted gleefully over the heads of the punters. "Better run, run as fast as you can."

Remus whipped round at a dizzying speed. McClouchan and Kingsley weren't far behind him, fingernails digging into their pocketed wands as they scanned the room frantically. The boy's exclamation was met with a thick silence, as though the punters were all agreed remaining tight lipped was the best course of action. Some even shot daggers at the young boy so keen to interrupt, others shushed him and ushered him to the back. The wizards suspicions were amplified ten fold.

Perhaps it was thanks to the wolf's heightened senses, or his sheer desperation to abolish the guilt he'd carried over the years, but Remus was the first to see it. Something seemed to be edging through the otherwise still crowd. A small darkened silhouette cast over the greased walls. Something about the agile way the inconspicuous figure moved left Remus without a doubt that it was the same darkened shadow he had encountered the night before.

"Harry?" Remus's whisper was barely audible, yet it clapped on the ears of the aurous like thunder.

The hunched figure was nearing the exit when it drew upright and the form of a small, dark haired boy appeared in its place.

McClouchan chose this exact moment to make his voice heard for the first time since entering the pub. "It's him Kingsley! GET HIM!" He squealed gesturing wildly, arousing the rowdy crowd once again.

Harry froze, paralysed with fear. His startling green eyes flickered upwards and pinned Remus with the same disarming gaze as they had the previous night. The werewolf swallowed thickly as their eyes locked and colour rapidly drained from both faces.

"Harry listen to me - I want you to stay exactly where you are okay, we just want to talk to you -"

Whether it was the use of his real name or the manner in which Kingsley spoke, his words triggered an instantaneous reaction and Harry bolted for the door.

Already having anticipated his next move, Remus wasted no time in breaking after the small time thief and wizarding worlds saviour, his sense of deja vu drowning out the jeering calls and shouts left in his wake.

….

Slamming hard through the pub door, Harry made his way out onto the street. A quick glance over his shoulder told him the man he'd tried to rob the night before was too close behind for comfort. He picked up his speed and pelted down the familiar lane. Nobody knew these streets like Harry. He could follow them with his eyes closed. It was the first secret to surviving life on the run. Know your territory and know it well. Know where you can lose the enemy. Escaping was an art form he had long ago perfected. His feet worked without a single commanding thought as adrenaline flowed freely through his veins.

Just how did that man know his name? The coppers in The Vic had a photograph of him. How? Why were they after him? As far as he knew no one had once bothered looking for him before, he'd been on the run for ages. Why now? It all came back to that strange man. He'd known there was something not quite right about him when he'd spotted him in the gully last night, and the way he looked at him - it was as though he'd recognised him somehow. But how? Harry didn't recognise him. He'd spent the whole night thinking on it. He should have known going back to the pub today was too risky. Should have known the fixated photographer wouldn't just let him off. But usually when his targets called the police and found out where he was, they wouldn't come near the famous Vic Arms. They'd just let him slip under the radar, not wanting to get involved in something bigger than they could handle. It was what attracted him to that way of life in the first place. The protection the reputation could offer. That and the security of knowing when he'd get his next meal of course. Sure he hated it, he despised every minute of it, but it was far better than fending for himself as he'd done before. At least he had people to watch out for him there. When you live a life on the streets, having people to count on is essential.

Making a sharp left hand turn, he tried to banish the unwanted memories threatening to flood his mind. Memories of a life he thought he'd long suppressed. But the harder he pushed, the harder the visions hit back. Shaking his head, he dodged a heap of rubbish bags littering the alley and hurtled over the low battered fence. But it didn't matter how far he travelled, or how fast he ran, he could never escape the past. Not when it came back to haunt him like this and hearing his real name used once more had pulled the trigger in a suspended, loaded gun.

Anger fuelled his desperation as old resentment came pouring back. Uncle Vernon had told him he was destined to meet a sticky end and maybe he was right. He could almost sense the three men closing in around him now. He could hear their quickened pace. He should have lost them by now. The long winding road offered plenty of obstacles, it was a maze to those unfamiliar with the city. In the concrete jungle, every street looked the same and it was all too easy lose yourself in the hustling crowds. Here you could be nobody, you could fade into the background noise. Everyone in this whole place was different, no one questioned abnormality, no one spared a second glance. People's instinctive curiosity was dampened in the city, street kids like him were ten for a penny. It was the main attractions of London and it was just the way it should be. Just the way Harry liked it. So why were these coppers still hot on his trail? They should have given up by now, yet they seemed more intent on catching him than ever before.

So consumed by his inner turmoil, he failed to notice the large white van blocking the exit route to the tight alleyway, until he was a foot away. His chest was alight with white hot lava. His head pounded fiercely as his lungs fought to expand against the restraint of his rib cage. Every muscle in his small body contracted in blind panic as the reality dawned on him. He was trapped.

Could he use it again so soon? He didn't want to try and fail. Should he even use it? There were 3 of them. What if they attacked him from different angles? What if he lost control again and harmed them the same way? Abolishing the thought and realising the only thing left was to hide, Harry used his petite size to his advantage and dived to the ground. He crawled underneath a nearby sitting car. Clinging to the hope that he would go unnoticed as the chasers would pass by.

….

"We've lost him!" Kingsley Shacklebolt roared slowing to a halt.

"No he went that way - I swear he went that way!" His colleague exclaimed, trailing close behind.

Remus however grabbed his outstretched arm and placed a finger to his lips. "Shhhhhh…"

"The element of surprise will be our biggest advantage here McClouchan," Kingsley explained hurriedly in hushed tones. "If he went that way, then we take a side each and move in - slowly. It's a dead end with that vehicle there - we'll corner him."

"We don't want to scare him Kingsley - the child's already fraught as it is!" Remus began to protest letting go of McClouchan's arm.

"We can't catch him Remus, the boy's too fast, besides, he probably knows where he's going far better than we do." Kingsley argued.

"I say we stun him. Soon as we catch a glimpse, we stupefy, that oughta stop him!" McClouchan declared through short, stiff breaths.

"The use of magic should be the very last resort - we're in a muggle town, there's too much risk of being seen!" Remus voiced again.

McClouchan shot him a challenging glare. "Who the hell are you anyway? Why are you even here? We were assigned to this mission, how do you know so much about the boy?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer when the head aurora cut him off. "We need to move now. Before he can slip past us again! Remus, you take the top, McClouchan you take the side and I'll take the bottom. We'll move down and meet in the centre go, move now!"

The trio separated and started in their allocated directions to close in on the supposedly vacant backstreet.

Remus made it only a few paces when a nearby parked car flared to life. He craned his neck in time to watch a young boy jump from under it suddenly, a shock expression on his face. "HARRY!" He shouted, grabbing the attention of the other wizards.

Harry's head shot up to look at him, reminding Remus forcefully of a deer caught in the headlights. He moved towards him with hands held high as if to offer a symbol of peace.

"Harry we just want to talk to you, you haven't done anything wrong - we've just been looking for you for a really long time." He started as the Ford Fiesta rolled off leaving the boy stranded without cover.

Seeing that he was indeed trapped, Harry's features darkened as he switched into a defensive mode. "Who are ya? Wha' do ya wan' with me?" He yelled accusingly.

"STUPEFY!"

McClouchan's jet of electric blue light came out of nowhere and hit Harry squarely in the chest. The boys every muscle seized as he went rigid and fell backwards. Remus lunged forwards and caught him before he hit the floor.


End file.
